“No. One of the boys was out and snapping a picture of you all in the car.”
“Oh, that was Archie Penrose! Funniest thing—we met the Penroses on the way East. I was with the Gwynnes, motoring. We all got acquainted, of course, and they said they were thinking of moving here. Then we were together in a lot of fun in Maine; Kathryn and I motored to Boston with them, and I never knew at all that Mr. Penrose was considering going into the same firm my father’s in, not until I was home and Father asked me ‘who are these Penroses you talk about? There’s a man by that name in the firm now!’”
“Probably Penrose was undecided and not talking about it,” Jack suggested.
“That was it—so Father supposed. And Father was awfully busy in New York, too full of his own affairs to listen to my babblings. And probably I didn’t babble to him much, either.”
Betty was babbling now and knew it. She had always tried to be as friendly to Jack in public as would ordinarily be natural.
Some thought of the sort seemed to occur to Jack. All at once he bent toward her and said, “You’re a peach, Betty Lee. I’ve forgiven you.” He said it with a laugh and turned to speak to the boy standing on his other side.
Betty sighed with relief and turned to Carolyn; but a hush fell over the assembly and all eyes were on the principal and the flag.
Busy, pushing hours followed. After all, there was something good about being at work. You were getting somewhere and there wasn’t any time going to waste!
After school some of the girls were playing hockey and a number were at the tennis court. There, tired after games, a group of the reunited seniors were gathered. On a grassy elevation, heels dug into the slight incline, Betty, Carolyn and Mary Emma Howland were recovering breath from their last effort.
“One thing,” Mary Emma was saying, “about playing hockey with seniors is that they know how to play by this time and you’re not in danger of having some girl swing her stick over her head and give you a side swipe!”